Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black
by atlaswhite
Summary: With Blurr gone, the Elite Guard needs a new agent, so they recreate him – but this twisted mech is no Blurr, and when confronted with his origins, he becomes bent on creating his identity by destroying everything Blurr ever cared about. Blurr/Bumblebee
1. Chapter 1: designation

_Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black_

_chapter 1  
_

_.  
_

The dull hum of machinery was the first sound to reach his audials. It was an unending, but reassuring sound, filling the void of silence. It helped him to relax, and he settled back on the cushioned surface he was lying on.

He was vaguely aware of the presence of figures nearby, their voices collectively the second sound to reach his audials. He could barely understand what they were saying, coming as distant words in the darkness.

"…finally coming online?"

Somewhere in his tangled subconscious mind, he faintly wondered what something like that might mean. Were they referring to him?

A second voice answered that sounded like the machinery. It wasn't so much a hum as a buzz, and he couldn't make out anything it was saying. The words were too confusing, the voice too quiet and mechanical.

The other voices seemed to understand, however, and more strange words were exchanged among them. The only thing he managed to catch, near the end of their exchange was;

"…take it out of stasis."

There was a tugging on various parts of his body. He felt a sharp pain in his neck, then a warm sensation in his chest. He moaned softly, and then, all at once, a bright light overtook the blackness in his vision.

He winced as his optics tried to adjust. The light was a burning, fluorescent white, and directed right at his faceplate. He made a low noise of displeasure and sat up quickly, leaning forward so that the light shone on his upper back.

He looked around the room, black spots clouding his vision. There were strange people gathered around him, all intently watching him, mumbling to one another, patting each other on the back. They seemed happy about something.

Past them, large machines and all varieties of equipment he could never hope to identify towered high over the room; at their bases, various cables ran along the ground, connecting the equipment to the walls and to other machines.

There were several counters, all kinds of strange-looking things spread across their surfaces, and a few rising cabinets, contents concealed behind electronic-padlocked doors. At the opposite side of the room, there was a steel staircase rising up over a door and several stacked crates. At the top, there was a second level within the room, and even more foreign and intriguing things up there to see.

All around him, there were more things without name or reason. His thoughts were rapid, his processor taking in all of it and considering each object, taking in its shape and wondering its purpose in a matter of mere nanokliks.

Still coming out of his drowsy state, he found his mind working at a speed he could barely handle, and it was giving him a splitting cerebro-circuit overload. He was gathering information faster than his foggy mind could sort it all through, and his systems were becoming confused.

Hissing loudly, he clutched his helm, his belly clenching as he leaned further forward to try and deal with the pain. The strange people around him came closer, and servos touched his helm and body. He wanted them to get away from him, to stop touching him; they were as strange to him as the equipment, and their presence was making his pain worse.

All at once, he was forced back and slammed down onto the table. He looked up with widened optics, before shutting them again, blinded once more by the penetrating light. He began to thrash furiously, but the servos held fast, pinning his slender body against the surface.

His jaws were grasped by strong servos and forced open. Gloved fingers poked around in his mouth, then withdrew, only to be replaced by a cold fluid poured without warning straight into his intake. He gagged, but didn't spit it back up.

His vents clicked open, trying to cool his overheated systems. After a few kliks, the liquid started to work, and he found himself beginning to calm down. His overworking fuel pump slowed to its normal speed, the ache began to subside as he stopped trying to process all the information, and his body—particularly his engine—cooled to its regular temperature.

"Take its vitals." The machine-voice said simply.

Now that he'd stopped thrashing and had relaxed for the most part, the servos pinning him released. One of the strange figures adjusted one of many cords attached to his body, and another checked a monitor set next to his worktable berth. In spite of his previous fear, for some reason, now, he felt… _calm_.

One of the voices started reading off numbers… What did they mean? Were those the "vitals"? Vital…signs? That must be it.

"Did it accept the entire vial of the sedative?" Asked the mechanized voice.

"Yes sir," Another voice responded calmly, "Master Perceptor."

"Good," The first—apparently called 'Master Perceptor'—said. "Now step back. Before there are any other menial, time-squandering interruptions, I am going to personally address it."

Someone reached over and moved the light and directed it away from his optics. He blinked as his optics adjusted once more, and saw before him a slender red mech with a cold air and a calculating gaze that came from above sharp yellow glasses. There was an aura to this mech that unnerved him, something about him that told him that he was dangerous.

When the mech spoke, it was immediately clear that this must be the "Master Perceptor", his voice mechanical and unmistakable.

"Tell me, can you understand what I am saying?" Master Perceptor asked.

He sat up, but found himself only becoming more nervous at optic-level with Master Perceptor, that cold stare boring into him.

"I… Y… Yes…?" His voice felt strange coming out. It was unfamiliar and new to him. It strained slightly, trying to go much faster than he was ready to go.

"Then the preliminary programming has been successful." Master Perceptor confirmed. "You still require a great deal of education, however. As a superior member of the Elite Guard, are you able to recall your formal designation?"

"I…" He paused, considering the question. What _was_ his designation?

It was something to do with speed, he was certain. He didn't seem to remember much… There was a gap in his memory spanning several stellar cycles. The feeling was so strange; even if there was a hole, he did still had memories. And yet, he felt like a protoform, unfamiliar with the world and even with his own body.

What was it? If only he could remember.

He remained silent in his thought for several cycles before finally Master Perceptor gave him the answer.

"Blurr." Master Perceptor said. "Your formal designation is Blurr. Try to bear that in mind." He then turned back to the others. "Begin its education immediately. I have issues to discuss with Wheeljack and will return shortly to run further tests on its body."

The others voiced unanimous agreement and eagerly did what Master Perceptor ordered them to do. The red mech walked past them with purpose, went up the stairs and vanished out the door, leaving Blurr to his loyal subjects.


	2. Chapter 2: awareness

_Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black_

_chapter 2_

.

Master Perceptor came back sometime later with a stout white mech lacking a face past two narrow, intimidating optics. By then, the nameless scientists had finished giving Blurr lessons in a lot of different subjects, mostly about Cybertron, the Elite Guard, and, oddly enough, himself.

The nameless Autobots cleared a path for the two arrivals, and spread out around Blurr and the table he rested on. Master Perceptor and his companion exchanged a few quiet words, looking Blurr over with those cold, evaluating optics.

"It has come online with little resistance," Master Perceptor said, gesturing at the confused blue mech. "The protoform accepted the fabricated spark and it has adjusted successfully. As we had calculated, there have been minor compatibility problems with the processor, but these are easily remedied."

The white mech nodded in acknowledgement as his companion spoke. Finally, he asked, "I see… Did that cause it to overheat?"

"Exactly as we had calculated." Master Perceptor replied.

"How is its comprehension?" The white mech asked. "Like the original?"

Master Perceptor answered with a nod, before the both of them moved closer and began to poke and prod at Blurr's helm, exchanging more strange words about him. Both of them consistently referred to him as an 'it' as they worked, and although he had only a shaky grasp on such concepts, something inside him didn't like it.

Still, he couldn't do anything right now but sit there and allow the two scientists to poke and prod at him as they talked about his body and features and things he just couldn't understand.

Blurr was quick to get distracted, and he took to looking around at all the equipment around him. There was so much of it, tantalizing and confusing his ultra-fast processor. As his optics darted and his mind wandered, an ache crept into him again and he felt his systems heating slightly. Here it was again…

The stout white mech put his servos on his chassis and pushed him back down, more gently than the servos from earlier, but still very firm. The touch caused fresh pain to resonate in his processor, but not nearly as badly as the many cold servos of before.

Master Perceptor shouted an order to one of his underlings, who obeyed without question. The nameless mech returned a cycle later, holding a vial of light blue liquid that he handed to Master Perceptor with a bow of his helm.

Master Perceptor accepted the vial and forced open Blurr's mouth. "Do not attempt to put up a fight." The scientist said emotionlessly. "This is necessary for your function."

Blurr tried to push the smaller mech away, but the other's white companion kept him pinned in place. He snarled uselessly as the vial, like the first, was poured directly into his intake. He gagged reflexively at the intrusion as his body tried to reject the foul-tasting foreign substance, but he had no choice but to swallow it.

"There." Master Perceptor said. His optics on Blurr, he explained, "That is a kind of coolant that will prevent your delicate new systems from overheating."

Blurr bit down angrily on Master Perceptor's digits, and the red mech recoiled with a low, staticky sound that was probably about the closest he could get to a startled reaction. The white mech pushed down harder on his chassis and their underlings moved to try and help, but Master Perceptor stopped them.

"No," The red mech commanded. "It needs to learn proper behavior, and physical force will not have the desired effect. Furthermore, this kind of reaction shows it to be frightened, and I do not want you making it worse."

The mechs and femmes backed away quietly, and at a gesture from Master Perceptor, the white mech joined them. Master Perceptor turned back to Blurr, the two digits caught in Blurr's mouth starting to leak.

"Blurr, calm yourself." His faceplate didn't change or soften, even as he began to lightly stroke Blurr's helm with his free servo. He stayed emotionless, and impervious to the pain Blurr was sure he was causing. "This is not the way to get what you want. Now why don't you tell me what is frightening you?"

Blurr held fast, and the other scientists were beginning to get antsy. Master Perceptor didn't seem to care.

"You must understand that you are getting nowhere this way," Master Perceptor said. "Like a sparkling throwing a fit. This kind of behavior is unacceptable."

Blurr eyed him a moment, then his optics fell. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth, releasing Master Perceptor's digits. Pink fluid trickled down to their tips.

"Master Perceptor, are you alright?" Asked one of the nameless.

"Fetch me cleaning solution and dressing." Master Perceptor answered emotionlessly, gesturing at the femme. Like all the others, she obeyed immediately, like a drone, running to do his bidding.

He then gestured at another part of the group. "Work with it until it has reached a state of calm. Do not resort to sedation. Then we must continue the examination and proceed with the program as planned. Is that clear?"

The answer came as a unanimous "Yes, Master Perceptor!"

Satisfied by this, Master Perceptor went off to the side to observe, standing by the white mech as the others surrounded Blurr.

Blurr's systems were gradually starting to catch up to his processor. As they did, he was getting better able to understand his own thoughts and to sort out the heaps of data that he collected.

The people were strange, and he was still nervous. Their touches were light, but he didn't like them. He took in all of their faceplates and features in just nanokliks, fascinated by his own ability to process data.

Curiosity was starting to win over fear, but somehow, he still felt uncomfortable with these people. What would they do next? Why were they trying so hard to calm him down? What was Master Perceptor going to do with him?

Eventually, he calmed down, but the questions never ceased. He was so distracted by them that he barely noticed Master Perceptor and his companion approaching.

Over the course of the examination, the two poked and prodded at every astro-inch of his body. They checked over his helm, his wheels, his plating; they put their servos all over his sensitive crest and peds, running scans on almost everything as they went. They checked over his pelvic reason and even went so far as to open his panel and glance over the parts within.

By the end of it, Blurr felt violated. He wasn't sure exactly what the feeling was, but he certainly didn't like it. He hunched over, tense and watching the scientists, servos rested on the ground between his legs in a protective stance.

"Don't feel that way," The stout white mech said, his voice as emotionless as Master Perceptor's. "We just needed to make sure everything is in working order."

Funny, that didn't make him feel any better.


	3. Chapter 3: garbage

_Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black_

_chapter 3_

_._

Today had been a pretty good day so far.

The hustler had gained a rare opportunity to go through the trash beneath Fortress Maximus. All it took was a little cunning and a tip he'd picked up in exchange for some watered-down oil. Apparently, the incinerator was down for a few solar cycles while under repairs, and with so many workers heading in and out, now was just the time for an _entrepreneur_ such as himself to pick through the junk and find some goods to salvage.

Fortress Maximus was home to the Elite Guard, the pick of Cybertronian society. There was hardly a better place on the planet to look for salvage, what with the broken and outdated equipment they threw out. Weapons, reinforced plating, spare parts, hubcaps… Like a junk-diver's paradise.

He leaned back against a wall, waiting for a few brawny-looking mechs passing by to disappear from sight before slipping through the wide-open entrance. The smell of rust and decay was strong in the air; apparently, the repairs were a bit overdue.

The small brown mech scurried in and went straight to work. He only had so much space in his bag, and so much time before one of the repair 'bots noticed he wasn't one of them. He had to act quickly but selectively if he hoped to earn anything from the trip. Chances were, he wouldn't be able to get back in here for another go. He had to try for the best stuff.

He heard a booming voice somewhere near the entrance and winced. Great. It was just his luck that _Sentinel Prime_ would be down here, personally overseeing the work. Why did these things always happen to him? He would've figured that a Prime would be 'too good' to come down here in the trash. Those Elite Guard types were the most arrogant group he never cared to tangle with.

Oh well. He'd just have to hurry it up. As long as he wasn't noticed, it would be okay. And even if he did get seen, if nothing else, he was an expert at running away.

As he went on snatching up whatever shiny objects he could get his servos on, his optic fell upon something unusual. Intrigued, he scurried over to get a better look. The object was half-buried, but its bright color made it stand out brilliantly against the dark hues of the rest of the trash. Something with such a color must be valuable, at least to somebody. Paint like that wasn't cheap.

The scavenger set his bag down and hurriedly cleared some of the trash on top of it away. It took considerable effort for the small commoner to wrench it loose, and when he did, he went toppling over backward, holding the object tightly. Fortunately for him, the quiet noise couldn't be heard over Sentinel Prime's yelling.

He stood up and examined the object now in his servos. It was an almost perfect cube, made of what appeared to be scrap metal, all of it painted a pale blue—Somebody's idea of art, perhaps? There was a warmth coming from inside it, and upon turning it, he was surprised to find a strange glow shining through a split in one of its sides.

"What the slag _is_ dis ting…?" He muttered under his breath. He'd never seen such a thing in all his function. What was that glow? It looked for all the world like a _spark_, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear it was.

"_Hey! You!"_

His helm shot up to see none other than Sentinel Prime coming directly towards him. Oh, slag. He was really going to be in for it if that massive mech got a hold to him. And with all the recent anxiety about Decepticon infiltration, he might even be tried as a traitor!

With a yelp, he snatched up his bag and took off running, his unique find tucked under his arm. He didn't get far before something hit him in the back at high speed, sending him crashing to the ground.

Within kliks, he found himself looking up and into the pale blue optics of Sentinel Prime.

*****

It wasn't often that the guilt-ridden Prime was in a pleasant mood. Now was no exception. Even after a little recent good luck, he couldn't find much to be happy about, and it showed as he snarled down at his piteous catch.

"Aw, c-c'mon, please…" The little crook pleaded. "Just… have a little mercy. I won't stealin' nothin'… Just pickin' up some ol', rotten garbage you was gonna burn up anyway!" He gave a nervous chuckle.

Sentinel bent down and retrieved his shield from where it lay on the ground after having been used as a very effective throwing weapon. His narrowed optics never left the intruder, freezing him in place with a cold glare as he put the shield away.

"How'd you get in here?" He demanded.

"Th-through da sewers!" The brown mech answered quickly. "I'll even show ya how to get down there if ya want!"

Sentinel continued to glower at him for a moment, then he rolled his optics and sighed, air hissing through his vents in his agitation. It was just another fragging beggar. There was really no point in bullying him, especially with so much work to be done.

Of course, it wasn't as if he could let him run off with the things he'd picked up. On the one hand, it was just trash, and Sentinel really did have half a mind to just let him keep the slag. But he could never reward law-breaking; that went against everything that made him who he was and would make him, in his own optics, unworthy of his position. On top of that, if he let him leave with the loot, that would just encourage him and others to try and break into Fortress Maximus, likely with far more dire results.

But he still didn't want to bully some poor beggar—he was strict, not evil—and he really didn't have time for the extra paperwork…

Finally, he reached a small compromise. One he could work with.

"Look, right now, I really don't care." Sentinel growled. "Just drop the trash and get the frag out of my face. Go on!"

The intruder didn't question it. His buck-dental plating chattering, he dropped everything, and scrambled off past the workers and out the door. Sentinel watched him take off before moving to get back to work, but as he stepped forward something blue caught his optic.

He knelt down to inspect the brightly-colored cube, left behind by the rat-looking intruder. He picked it up in a single large, black-and-grey servo and looked over it, intrigued, though he couldn't have known it, by all the same features that the street urchin had been.

Sentinel held it up at optic-level, peering in through the split in the side at the warm, silvery glow inside. What was this, some sort of spark? Was this thing alive or something? He'd never seen such a device, and felt that it might have some kind of significance. Its color was disturbingly similar to that of a soldier who very recently had given his life on the field of battle.

But now was not the time to stand and ponder its purpose and origin. Holding the curious object close against his chassis, he went back to his duties, barking orders at slacking repairbots and swinging his free servo emphatically. He would have to ask Perceptor and his loyal followers later.

Ugh… Perceptor. Now _there_ was a creepy mech if ever there was one. He was one of the high council members and the contempt Sentinel had for him was clearly mutual, even if he did lack any semblance of a personality. According to rumor, or maybe legend, Perceptor had had it all removed to make way for even more data, making him the eerie, soulless scientist he was today. Not to mention his cronies – an equally soulless lot that wouldn't even process data without Perceptor's command, and which constantly referred to him as "Master".

With his free servo, he rubbed at his helm. Hopefully, that cheerful little Earth phrase about curiosity wouldn't prove correct. The last thing he wanted was to end up dissected or turned into a mindless goon or something wild and horrific like that. Especially after he'd gone against the creepy bastard's warnings, taken his right as second in command, and become stand-in Magnus. Yeah, Perceptor was probably still a little miffed about that, if he could feel miffed at all.

It was just too bad the entire Elite Guard science team was under Perceptor's direct command, or else he'd go ask somebody else. Still, as long as he was just there to ask about some weird thing he'd found in the garbage, he should be pretty much okay. And besides, anything that gave him a little opportunity to rub Perceptor's olfactory sensor in his authority was good by him. There was nothing to be concerned about as long as he still outranked that arrogant, sparkless little creep.

…At least he hoped so.

777777777777777777777777777


	4. Chapter 4: door

Black Blurr // Reflection in the Key of Black

_chapter 4: Visitor_

Blurr was learning quickly from his nameless tutors; about himself, about the Elite Guard, even about simple things like science and history. He had a quick mind and was very capable when it came to processing information, filing everything away in fractions of seconds.

Still, the frequent aches in his helm and body persisted, and when they surfaced, his caretakers would pin him down and force him to drink that horrible coolant. In spite of the pain that his neural overloads caused him, he still resisted the medicine as stubbornly as a child; he was terrified of his handlers.

Master Perceptor carefully oversaw his education, feeding, medication, and all-too-frequent examinations, often aided by his cohort, that stout white mech whose name Blurr still didn't know. In his short time online, Blurr had already learned to fear the slender red scientist and do whatever he wanted without question. Master Perceptor's whim was law.

The problem was, that often conflicted with the panic he went into when his handlers were trying to administer his medicine. In the end, he never had a choice but to settle down and let them give it to him. Anything to avoid angering the master he found even more frightening and intimidating even than his handlers.

Blurr could hardly find the words to explain the power the scientist had over him, when he had never even seen his wrath or experienced his scorn or choice of punishment, but it was clear to see why he had it. When Master Perceptor demanded something, it was done, no matter what it took. Even the largest and most intimidating of the Autobots that dared come down into his cold domain seemed to bend completely to his will. And when he looked directly into Blurr's optics, a chilly grip took hold of the blue mech's spark and he lost all will to fight.

Between the example set for him by others, and that horrible, mind-conquering stare, it was no wonder he was so afraid of Master Perceptor. Even if he couldn't describe it, it was all the same an overwhelming force.

*****

Blurr had no concept of time, as day and night had no reach in the windowless laboratory. He had no idea how long it had been since his activation, or, as a result, how long he had been online before the moment an unusual guest came down into the laboratory with what Blurr saw as some kind of odd box about the same color as he himself was.

The first thing Blurr noticed about the newcomer, aside from the box, was that he was very tall; taller than any mech Blurr had ever seen before. He also had broad shoulders, and a strikingly prominent chin that he carried high. But although the mech had a very regal, important air about him, he also had a very bitter expression, as if this were the last place he ever wanted to be.

Blurr's handlers seemed as mystified by the stranger's presence as he was, but Master Perceptor and his white cohort greeted the sight as emotionlessly as ever.

"Continue working with the subject," Master Perceptor instructed. "I will return shortly."

He approached the visitor at a brisk pace, blocking the larger mech before he could get down the stairs; the nameless simply continued to follow his orders. He exchanged a few hushed words with the stranger, who tilted up his helm and peered towards the inner areas of laboratory. The scientist turned him away before he had to chance to glimpse Blurr and shooed him back out the door.

The two went up the stairs together and disappeared in the unknown beyond the large electronic door. Blurr watched the enigmatic portal curiously, even as his handlers examined his legs yet again, fixated by his fascination with the door. He had never known what lied beyond that exit. Although his broken memories showed him many places likely very far from here, in his 'current life', he had never left the laboratory.

His natural curiosity and ever-growing desire to run outside of treadmill exercises was steadily making that fascination unbearable. He had been told that someday, when he was ready, he would be allowed to go through that door so that he could fulfill his purpose and work as an Elite Guard agent, but that day seemed so far away. He could barely take the waiting, the staring up at the threshold and wondering what might await him on the other side. When would that tomorrow ever come?

When finally the door opened again, Master Perceptor entered alone, the box now in his servos. He walked slowly and deliberately down the steps, carrying the strange object as if it were a precious jewel. Whatever it was, it had to be important.

He called the other scientists to himself and led them all away, presumably to investigate whatever spectacular object the stranger had brought him. Suddenly, the room was very quiet, and Blurr was left to his own devices.

The pale blue mech looked around warily before pushing himself up off the examination table to walk around. First, he began to pace, servos swinging by his sides. Then he began to jog about, making his way gradually toward the stairs. It felt so good to stretch his legs!

The door would be locked; that much he knew from the very few times previously he'd been left alone this way. But he would try it all the same, just to see if this would be the one time the unerring Master would be foolish and luck would smile on him.

Blurr reached up and lightly tapped the control panel, biting his lip slightly in hope and anticipation. It gave a click, then a low buzzer sounded, and a red, oval-shaped light beneath the panel turned on. Access denied. Of course.

With a slight snort, Blurr turned away and went up the stairs to the laboratory's upper level. Here, like downstairs, everything was carefully hidden away behind heavy locks and tarps, leaving nothing to be discovered or rifled through. He would have nothing to do or play with, but at least he could stretch his legs for a little while. Perhaps if he tried hard enough, he could finally find some way out of this all-too confined space.

The sound of his footsteps, even as light as they were, echoed in the silence. He could hear the soft sound of his own engine quietly purring, making him wonder just how his strange body worked as he looked for some route of escape.

In this place without time, Blurr didn't know how long it was until Master Perceptor finally came back to retrieve him. But however long it was, he was completely unable to break out, and it was starting to get very frustrating. He'd tried everything by now, but nothing seemed to work!

He couldn't break or hack through the door, Master Perceptor kept everything carefully under lock, key, pass code, and CNA scan, and there weren't any windows or vents or anything for him to sneak out of. He was starting to think he might never see what strange and wonderful things might exist in the world outside the door.

As it was, the agitated Blurr didn't want to come back down to his berth. He easily evaded the nameless handlers as they came for him, dashing and leaping around them with ease whenever they approached. He was so strong, so quick! His body was so wonderful! These people were so slow compared to him, it was as if they weren't moving at all.

Rarely did he get the chance to experience something like this. He was so fascinated with his own body and his own speed that for a moment, his confines no longer seemed to matter. He ran down the stairs and back up again, speeding around the laboratory, navigating with ease as his lightning-quick reflexes guided him around each obstacle. To Blurr, this was bliss.

*****

Master Perceptor began to take notes as he watched the spectacle, commenting on Blurr's movements and physical abilities. Apparently, the subject was coming into his own much more quickly than anticipated. With a little more education, the subject would be ready for deployment and use on the field in no time.

"Just like the first." He commented aloud.

His stout assistant turned to look at him, but said nothing. No surprise; it was rare he ever uttered a word. Probably because he was afraid of Master Perceptor. But then again, who wasn't?

If he still felt those useless, foreign things called 'emotions', Master Perceptor thought, he might have laughed. The subject was moving like a mongoose as he evaded his pursuers, living up to his name completely with his near-untraceable movements. The Nameless, on the other hand, just fumbled around, swiping outstretched arms or offering treats to the animal.

"Fools." Master Perceptor said simply. The slender mech handed his notepad and electronic pen over to his assistant before stepping forward to capture his creation as his underlings had failed to.

"Blurr. Come here." Master Perceptor said, not bothering to raise his mechanized voice. "You are solving nothing by running laps in an enclosed space."

The subject continued to run, leaping clean over his master's helm.

"Blurr, do you really want me to punish you?" Master Perceptor asked. "Surely you are aware that continuing this behavior will only result in negative consequences."

The subject's pace slowed rapidly, until he came to a quiet stop just astro-inches from the scientist. He bowed his pointed sky-blue helm submissively.

"Yes sir, Master Perceptor," he said, "I'm sorry."

"You are forgiven." Master Perceptor said. "Now go and sit down. Your next lesson begins in three cycles."

*****

Blurr did as he was told, quietly obeying the will of his master. He didn't like it, but until he was finally allowed out, until he could finally resume his duties as an Elite Guard member, this was his lot in life and he would just have to wait it out.

The Nameless came and gathered around, many to give Blurr his lessons, a few to wait on Master Perceptor.

It was hard to say why he had such power over everyone and everything, but Master Perceptor seemed to have everyone in Fortress Maximus, perhaps on all of Cybertron, at his beck and call.

Blurr picked up his electronic pen and began to doodle in the corner of his holo-notebook page. He had three cycles to kill, after all. If he couldn't be out there doing what he really wanted, he could at least draw a picture or two in the margins of his paper.

Granted, he didn't know how Master Perceptor might respond to such a thing, but he was pretty sure his teachers wouldn't care. They never did, the empty, brainwashed things. Oh well, at least it made things easier on him. As long as the Nameless were just a bunch of clueless drones, they didn't have the sense to stop him from doing whatever he liked; only Master Perceptor could do that.

Blurr sighed wistfully. It wouldn't be long now. He would have his freedom and everything else he wanted. He just had to be patient for now.


	5. Chapter 5: yellow

_Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black  
chapter 5: Yellow_

.

Blurr awoke with a start, engine revving softly, his optics bright in the darkness of the lab. He reached up and rubbed gingerly at his aching helm, his thoughts racing yet again. As long as he didn't show how upset he was, Master Perceptor and the Nameless wouldn't force him to take that awful medication or start grilling him about what had caused his excitement.

He groaned. This was the fourth time.

The dreams themselves were different, but each involved the same figure; a strange young Autobot, smaller than he, and bright yellow in color. He always had this broad grin on his face, and would usually turn and run, laughing. Blurr would chase after him, captivated by a speed rivaling his own.

And at the end of the dream, always, Blurr would catch him and tackle him to the ground, feeling the yellow mech's warmth against his body as he pinned him beneath himself.

Then, this last time, the yellow bot mock-pouted before breaking into laughter, then leaned upward to plant a light kiss on Blurr's lips, their chassis brushing together with a soft metallic sound.

Blurr felt happy like this, finding contentment and comfort in the yellow mech. He did not know who he was, but he offered a sort of tranquility, and an unpredictability that the pale blue runner needed desperately.

When Blurr awoke, it was always with a feeling of emptiness, as if something important were missing. For now, he could only assume the obvious; that it had something to do with the holes in his memory. He had no way of knowing whether the yellow mech had been a lover, or perhaps someone he had felt romantic interest in-- a rival, a close friend, an acquaintance, or even a complete stranger. Only the unclear image and distant voice remained, calling so tauntingly to him from some unreachable past.

Maybe it was all in his mind. Maybe he had envisioned the yellow mech as a form of escape, a way to separate himself from his reality, from the darkness of the lab, from Master Perceptor's all-encompassing reign, and from the cold and unfeeling faceplates and servos of the Nameless. Maybe the tranquility and uncertainty that the yellow mech offered so happily was merely Blurr's subconscious wishing for the things missing from his life, and their separation at the end of the dream represented his inability to grasp those things.

But Blurr didn't want to think that way. Of course the possibility that the yellow mech wasn't real loomed over him, but then again, what if he was? What if somewhere out there, that person he dreamed of was waiting for him to return and reclaim him, to offer all the things that Blurr needed?

The pale blue mech regained his composure, and lied back down to return to stasis, feeling reassured of the dream mech's existence. In the morning, he would be forced to relive the same routine once again, repeating the same steps. But then again, it would make him one more long, agonizing, controlled solar cycle closer to being set free to begin his work as an Elite Guard agent; one more solar cycle closer to finding his _Yellow_.

*****

In the city of Iacon, beneath a perpetually dusky sky, Blurr's existence went completely unrealized. In the outside world, lunar cycles had passed, and in that short span, things had changed dramatically.

With the Decepticon threat gone, the second war over without ever truly reaching its peak, Cybertron's capital city had been in a state of celebration for some time now. The news had spread like wildfire, and grand parties and parades had been held in the honor of those brave Autobots responsible for the capture of Megatron and Shockwave.

Those that had given their lives for this great victory had been given a quiet service and recognition in the form of holographic statues in Fortress Maximus's main hall, but hardly anyone would stop to think of them in all the commotion. Their minds were too focused on the celebrations, on the good feelings and the idea that now, they would no longer be forced to obey a curfew and fear for their lives and the lives of their sparklings. No one had time for the dead in this time of the living.

Thus it was that Bumblebee stood alone, his mind wandering. He was almost uncharacteristically quiet as he roamed the streets, trying to lose himself in the crowd, and yet, feeling as if he stood out now more than ever. Bumblebee was one of the 'heroes', after all, one of those that had fought courageously against some great enemy and lived to tell about it. Everywhere he went, there were people to shake his servo and take pictures of him, to bombard him with questions about himself, and Earth, and the way he had risen from a simple repairman to the stuff of legend.

In the past, Bumblebee would've thought all this newfound fame and attention to be simply exhilarating; what more would the energetic child have wanted than to be showered with praise and attention this way, to have an eagerly-listening audial receptor to tell about all his grand adventures? How much he would have loved it all, getting wrapped up in the excitement; not only being allowed into parties, but seeing them thrown in _his_ honor! In reality, the crowds and parties had only thrilled him for so long. They had only served to tide him over for a little while, distracting him from the turmoil that racked his mind.

He sped down the street towards Fortress Maximus, barely making a turn as he blazed the corner. His characteristic speed and dexterity proved exceedingly useful for evading irritating fans.

He wondered where his teammates had gone. He'd barely caught a glimpse of any of them, even Bulkhead, since they'd returned to Cybertron-- but perhaps it was better that way. Certainly they were all off enjoying themselves to the fullest, wherever they were; the last thing any of them needed was Bumblebee showing up in low spirits to ruin their fun.

The young Autobot slammed on the brakes and transformed, sliding stylishly to a stop on his feet as he had done so often in the past. He had arrived at the towering gates of Fortress Maximus. Bumblebee didn't pause to take in their splendor, instead simply sprinting up the stairs into the lobby. As he walked inside, Cliffjumper glanced up at him grumpily from behind the front desk, but paid the younger little mind.

Bumblebee walked past quietly into the main hall, a very large, three-story room that connected to much of Fortress Maximus, encompassing all of the areas that were available to the general public. This included such things as offices, secretarial areas, and an emergency bomb shelter that remained locked the majority of the time.

The main hall was as beautiful as it was expansive, being one of the only decorated areas in the Fortress, with a white staircase and silver walls lined with doors. Each floor had a number of holographic statues and golden plaques, remembering the images and deeds of fallen heroes, founders, Primes, and Magnuses of Cybertron. The statues were lovingly detailed, full-color, and life-size, and haunting to look at. Even if they did tend to flicker slightly, the ghostly images were like the spirits of the dead, their sightless eyes watching the every moment of those that traversed this great hall.

Bumblebee heaved a painful sigh as he crossed the first floor and made his way slowly up the ivory staircase, his lonely footsteps echoing softly in the expansive halls. He walked as one without a soul, listlessly and dejectedly, and yet with a very clear purpose in mind.

The statues he sought were placed side-by-side near the railing overlooking the first floor, something Bumblebee found very fitting. He thought that the two would have liked it so high up, in such a nice, quiet place. Personally, he liked it better someplace there was _action_, someplace noisy with a good fight or something going on. He'd voiced that opinion to the silent figures once before, but neither of them had anything to say. They never did.

The solitary Autobot sat down at their feet, looking up at the ghostly faces of his two closest companions, one pale blue and the other black and gold. Even just to look at them caused his spark to ache and his optics to sting with tears he couldn't shed. There was no way he would ever be able to overcome what had happened to them, especially with no one here by his side to guide him. He was trapped, physically and emotionally.

He spread out on his belly, his optics falling away from the figures. They had been his companions and his guides. A world without them, no matter which world, felt empty and terrifying. Bumblebee had never had progenitors or siblings, and these two, no matter how short a time he had really been able to know them for, had been the protectors and caretakers he had so desperately needed. But now, because of that stupid, pointless war, they were gone. Both of them. And both, it seemed, without any reason at all.

Bumblebee curled up tightly against himself beneath the haunting statues' watchful forms. His spark was injured deeply, but here, at least, he could feel safe. He didn't know whether anyone might come back here anytime soon, but he doubted it. Between the ongoing celebrations, and all the talk of how the Elite Guard could 'rest easy' from now on, this once oft-traveled hall had been quiet for solar cycles.

It didn't matter anyway. His pride had already been shattered, and so had his spark. All he could do now was lie here at the silent statues' feet, and, without even realizing it, drift off into a lonely, troubled stasis.

*****

Sentinel Prime's reasons for not enjoying the celebrations were drastically different, and yet, in a way akin to Bumblebee's. Though he could never say it aloud, his spark was ridden with guilt, and on top of that, his plate was filled with the troubles of his position both as second and as acting Magnus.

Though he could hear the whispers and snickers of those who assumed he was just being jealous, some of his own men--sans Jetfire and Jetstorm, of course--among them, he reminded himself that they knew not of what they spoke, and that more importantly, he had bigger fish to fry. Like when he'd caught that scavenger previously, there was no time, and he had no patience.

All the same, it made his fluids boil to hear people being so disrespectful of him. If he'd had the time, he would've liked little more than to personally straighten out each and every one of them. But that wouldn't really be fair, would it? Of course not. That would only serve to worsen his image and get him in trouble with the high--_and mighty,_ Sentinel added bitterly--council to boot.

His servos clenched into fists, he walked proudly down the hall, helm held as high as ever, even as his mind raced.

The current Magnus was still on spark support, and his condition grew worse by the megacycle. Chances were, it would not be long before Sentinel finally realized his dream of becoming the Magnus. As excited as he was at the prospect of finally attaining that coveted and high position, he honestly wished it didn't have to happen like this. He'd always thought that the ancient mech would simply retire, and that would be that. The fact that it had been an assassin--and not just an assassin, but a double agent, and not just a double agent, but a _Prime, _for Primus sake, and on top of that, one of Megatron's highest officers--was entirely too much to take in all at once. It was troubling, and made him wonder if there weren't more double-agents still lurking amidst the Autobots, even the Elite Guard.

But that wasn't the reason for his guilt. That was a much longer, more complicated story. Something that had happened on Earth, and something he simply couldn't stand to recall right now. He already had too much eating away at him to allow himself to go back on his past mistakes, especially the way it seemed he kept repeating them.

Sentinel gritted his dental plating, growling low, and rubbed harshly at his faceplate and external audial sensors. He could barely contain his frustration at all of it. He was angry with himself, more so even than usual. He was angry that he hadn't been able to catch the double agent and that he'd been led on that stupid wild goose chase and that he'd let two of his prisoners escape en route from Earth to Cybertron.

Maybe somewhere inside, he was feeling a little jealous, but it was hardly because of the parties. It was because of the simplicity, the ignorance. Optimus and his crew didn't _have_ to care about the government or Cybertron or anything. They didn't _have_ to think about the future, about what would happen now that the Magnus was about to pass away. Optimus didn't _have_ to see Elita-One's haunting face every time he switched off his optics.

Sentinel hissed loudly at himself. Shit, of course he'd go on pile it on himself when he already had so much on his plate, bringing up such thoughts and memories, Primus damn it all.

The tall blue mech stopped, taking a moment to gather his thoughts on focus on the issues at hand. Right now, he had to take care of the Magnus and make preparations for the unspeakable possibility that now seemed all too real. If he had time, and if he thought about it later, then perhaps he could ask Perceptor what purpose the box he'd found a few lunar cycles ago served, and what he'd done with it. Maybe that could distract him for a cycle or two.

Oh, or better yet, he could play games with Jetfire and Jetstorm. Sparring, doing training exercises, or even just going out into Iacon with them always made a world of difference when he got into moods like this.

Sentinel nodded to himself-- importantly, in case someone might be watching --and marched dutifully onward to the main hall, where he would take a lift up from the second floor to check on the Magnus. It was there, before he ever even reached the lift, that he came across something at the foot of two of the statues.

Something strange. Something _yellow_.

*****

When Bumblebee awoke sometime later, he found that he was being carried. He was curled against a broad chassis, in the surprisingly gentle grip of servos about as large as the youth's torso. His first, bleary thought was that it was Boss Bot, or maybe Bulkhead, but he didn't care enough to try and figure it out.

He leaned against the chassis and slipped back into a deep and troubled stasis.


	6. Chapter 6: shackles

_Black Blurr // Immortal Sonata in the Key of Black__  
chapter 6: Shackles_

_.  
_

Bumblebee's optics snapped online.

He lied on his back, arms at his sides—completely still, afraid to move. The room was unfamiliar to him; foreign, but well-kept and carefully decorated. Nothing was out of place, and all of the furnishings and ornaments stood a clear indication of its owner's status. A small banner on the wall displayed the Elite Guard sigil against a field of navy blue. Whatever this room was, it belonged to someone important.

Bumblebee tilted his head slightly as he tried to get a better look around. Though his surroundings were strange—even rather intimidating—there was a certain sense of reassurance and stability that came from both the cushy berth, and the atmosphere of the room around him. He felt warmer and more comfortable just snuggling by himself under these covers than he had felt in a long time; as if, somehow, the fear, anxiety, and grief that had been dogging him couldn't reach him in this place. It almost felt like the Elite Guard itself might come protect him from anything that might try to get him here.

…Admittedly, that still didn't make him any less afraid of knocking over and breaking something in this rather nice and important-looking room.

With small yellow fingers, he gripped the covers and pulled them even closer against himself, curling his body into a semi-circle.

There were a lot of things he didn't understand about this; when and how he'd gotten here, who occupied this room, and why he might've chosen to bring him here. Whatever remained of the naturally brash and curious boy's crushed spirit wanted to get up and start investigating, but the crestfallen part of him that was perfectly happy where he was seemed determined to fight that curiosity to the end.

So Bumblebee lied there, examining the room with his optics, confused and curious.

It was then that there came a soft chime, and the door slid open. Startled, Bumblebee gripped the blanket and tensed for a fight he didn't really figure he'd win, no matter who was coming in.

"Oh. You're awake." The intruder had a gruff, commanding voice, and one all too familiar. "How do you feel… Bumblebee, right?"

The youth leaned up to look at the towering blue mech standing by the door. The intruder looked back down at him with cold, piercing optics that froze him in place like daggers of ice. Though often the subject of ridicule, Sentinel Prime had an overwhelming presence. He wasn't the second in command for nothing.

Numbly, Bumblebee nodded. "Y-yeah. Bumblebee. I'm… Uh, I'm okay."

Sentinel cleared his throat—a bit awkwardly, not that Bumblebee could've noticed. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Uh, yeah. --Please. Sir." Bumblebee added quickly.

"I'll send somebody up here." Sentinel said, his expression still just as stern as ever. "So, what were you doing in the great hall, soldier?"

"I guess I must've fallen asleep." Bumblebee answered tentatively. "I was… marveling at the statues."

"The statues? Why?"

Bumblebee squirmed. He didn't like where this line of questioning was determined to take him, and really, there didn't seem to be any way of getting out of it. Worse still, his wit hadn't been nearly so sharp since _they'd_ gone away.

"I dunno. I just like them." Not smooth.

"Did you know those two bots well?" Sentinel asked. He tapped his rather large chin. "I know Prowl was on your team. And as I recall, Blurr mentioned something about you in his report."

Bumblebee bit down on his lip, and his body started to quiver. Beneath the cover, he pulled his knees up against his chassis.

*****

Sentinel looked down at him, surprised by the small yellow bot's reaction.

"Uh, I take it you were pretty close to them, then." He said, scratching the back of his neck. He was lacking enough in tact and humility; apologizing was an impossible feat. "I didn't mean to hit a nerve like that." Well, that was about the best he could do.

Bumblebee was uncharacteristically quiet. He said nothing, didn't even acknowledge that Sentinel had said anything. This frustrated the Prime, who had a gruff, cold, aggressive nature, but who still cared enough about the people around him to want to do _something_ to make up for his tactless words.

Finding nothing, the Prime decided to go with the simplest route. He cleared his throat before speaking up in a voice just as unapologetically commanding as ever. "But disregard that. I will permit you to stay here as long as you need. Consider it my thanks for your assistance back on Earth."

Bumblebee regarded him quietly for a moment before mumbling, "I don't understand."

"Understand what?" Sentinel asked evenly, lifting an optic ridge.

"What are you talking about? Where am I, how'd I get here?"

"Ah. That." Sentinel grunted. He scratched absently at his chin. "I brought you up here to my personal quarters after I found you. Figured I, uh, owed you that much. Like I said. You're to stay here and recuperate, eat—but don't get a _crumb_ on my berth!—and then get out. Understood?"

Bumblebee looked at the Prime in confusion. What was he getting at? Wasn't this the medics' job? Was he trying to be nice or mean?

"I still don't get it." Bumblebee said. "Why are you doing this for me? I mean, shouldn't ya have taken me on down to the med-bay or somethin'?"

Sentinel snorted. "No. I decided I was going to get you back on your stabilizing servos _personally_, and _that's_ what I'm gonna _do_. When I set my mind on something, it gets done, my way, on _my_ time."

Bumblebee blinked, his optics giving a quiet electronic chirp. It was hard for him to understand Sentinel Prime's way of thinking, or at least the contradictory words coming from his mouth. He couldn't understand why Sentinel Prime was helping him, seeing as his only answer had been 'because he was _going_ to help'.

The aggressive Prime had made up his mind, and that's all the youth knew.

Given his current situation, in spite of confusion and curiosity, that reasoning would have to be good enough for him, at least for now. He had no room to argue with much-needed care and food, or with his angry former teacher. Whatever Sentinel's reasons, Bumblebee—sobered both by tragedy and his own near-death experience—decided for once to be quiet and take the most sensible path.

Satisfied with the silence, Sentinel gave a nod, turned, and walked from the room.

"Someone will be by shortly to bring you your food," he called back.

Bumblebee sighed. Being as young as he was, it was hard to even fully grasp his situation. He was naïve, and the very picture of energy and freedom and cockiness. The thought that time could be cut short, that lives might somehow be brought to an end, had never occurred to him. That last battle between his Autobot comrades, and the impossibly powerful Decepticon enemy, had come on so fast and so hard, and the damage it caused was overwhelming to Bumblebee. Prowl hadn't been the only one to die there, and each loss struck Bumblebee to the core. Even those human civilians that had been injured or killed—if Bumblebee hadn't known them, it didn't matter, each one hurt and disturbed him just as much.

What was worse, that stupid All-Spark calling all its pieces together… What if Wreck-Gar was dead? They hadn't been able to find him, after all. And Starscream and those clones of his? Even if they were 'cons, it was better to see them imprisoned than as even more casualties in this pointless conflict. After arriving home, shaken and scared, to be told that Blurr had been killed… Bumblebee didn't think he could possibly take any more dying.

The fighting was over. It was time for the dying to be over too. He couldn't take it anymore, he just couldn't take it.

Bumblebee pulled the covers up over his head, grinding his dental plating. He hoped Sentinel's subordinate would get up here soon. It was just too quiet.

*****

It was too quiet down here, even if it did mean that he wouldn't have to go through anymore testing, poking, and prodding, at least for now.

Blurr stretched, his almost serpentine body arching gracefully towards the ceiling. He enjoyed having time by himself, simply because it meant that he didn't have to act as plaything to Master Perceptor and the Nameless.

He would almost go so far as to say he could do whatever he wanted, but that really wasn't true. After all, he was still stuck down here in this locked-off laboratory, with nothing to occupy him but his simple toys, a stack of datapads, the same old educational holos, and his own ability to run circles around the enclosed space.

Blurr eyed the door with contempt as he came up from his stretch. If that damn thing would just open, he could be free. If Master Perceptor's promises that he would someday be allowed out of those doors to 'fulfill his purpose' would ever come to pass, he would probably just use that blinding speed of his to take off and never come back. He relished the idea of freedom, and the fact that these walls were all he'd known since his activation only helped spur him on. There was nothing he could ever want more than to be loosed to see the world he'd forgotten first-hand, to use these legs and run to the farthest corners of Cybertron, to find his Yellow and learn both who he was, and who Blurr had been in his past life.

There was nothing to fill the space or the quiet in the lab. He wondered what it might be like to have some company down here that didn't want to study or educate him.

Idly, he wondered what Yellow might be doing right now. Was he happy? Was he waiting for him to come back? He couldn't stand the idea that Yellow wouldn't want him back, or that he might've forgotten him altogether. Just as he loved the idea of the strange mech and his existence, he loved the idea that, whatever their relationship, Yellow was still thinking about him from time to time, and once he found him, they would be able to pick up right where they'd left off.

It helped fortify his resolve, and give him something to work towards. If he could get out there to explore the world of his past life, he could find Yellow and his life would come together, given meaning and solidarity. From there, he would see where he was destined to go next.

Then, with a quiet click, the door opened, interrupting his thoughts.

Blurr's head snapped up, his body tense and at attention. He had closed the distance between him and that door before the intruder could utter a sound.

*****

"Hey, are you being awake?"

"_Shh_… He isn't looking awake to me, brother. Maybe, we should be letting him sleep?"

"Sentinel Prime-Sir said not to be waking him. What do I do with this, brother?"

"Set it down, he will seeing it when he get up."

"Good idea. Let's go, brother."


End file.
